A Turn Or Two I'll Walk To

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me; For Now Hath Time Made Me His Numbering Clock: My Thoughts Are Minutes; And With Sighs They Jar Their Watches On Unto Mine Eyes, The Outward Watch, Whereto My Finger, Like A Dial's Point, Is Pointing Still, In Cleansing Them From Tears. Now Sir, The Sound That Tells What Hour It Is Are Clamorous Goans, Which Strike Upon My Heart, Which Is The Bell: So Sighs And Tears And Groans Show Minutes, Times, And Hours.

Let's All Cry Peace, Freedom, And Liberty!

Thanks, Sir; All The Rest Is Mute.

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension.

They Have Been Grand-jurymen Since Before Noah Was A Sailor